It all starts when Zitao is accepted into SM Ent. He’s excited but so nervous and so young and as his ears are filled with the unfamiliar buzz of Korean, he finds himself slightly missing home.

Home introduces himself as Wu Yifan. He’s taller and older than Zitao with cold eyes and large, warm hands. His eyes soon grow warmer every day, every time Zitao sends him a shy smile, hooks a skinny arm around Yifan’s more muscular one when they cross the street, falls asleep on his broad shoulder after hours of dance practice (Yifan’s shoulder is damp with sweat but so is Zitao’s hair so he doesn’t mind – if anything, it makes it more real, he thinks).

Warm smiles turn into soft touches, dark eyes and whispered “can I kiss you?”’s. Tight embraces, nights spent curled up together watching movies, hickeys in places the others won’t see. Zitao feels safe. He’s stronger than before, now that he’s anchored to Yifan, who can introduce him to the Korean members properly without stumbling over his words, help make him seem like more than just the cute but awkward Chinese kid, be there for him those nights when all he wants to do is go home (because maybe Zitao is just a kid, after all).

If all of the problems Zitao faced are locked doors, Yifan is his skeleton key.

Days and months go by and suddenly Yifan isn’t Yifan anymore, he’s Kris and they’re debuting as EXO-M. Kris is different to Yifan, of course he is; his face is sterner and his fingers don’t linger and his smile is different – it’s more forced, but it’s measured and strong, just like a leader should be.

But he’s still Yifan, and Zitao can see that in those moments when Yifan’s eyes soften in concern whenever Zitao has trouble comprehending a question in Korean, when Zitao does his backflip in the MAMA choreo and Yifan watches on cautiously.

Time passes, eras come and go and they win more and more awards, and Zitao clings to Yifan in happiness every time.

But somewhere down the line things start to get muddled – Zitao’s not sure who’s Yifan and who’s Kris, and maybe because they travel so much, Zitao doesn’t know where he is anymore; he doesn’t know where Home is.

And then, just as suddenly as Yifan entered Zitao’s life, he leaves. They don’t talk about it. It feels weird to when his clothes are still in the dorm’s wardrobe and the bathroom still smells of his cologne.

His life goes on.

Tao doesn’t break. He smiles and laughs and expresses his love for the other members and exclaims “we are one!” when they’re on stage.

Zitao crumbles. He pines and cries and sings sad songs into the early hours of the morning and tries not to think about how he now has one too many stars on his earpiece (but he does).

Sehun isn’t Home but he tries to be; he’s a safe place, a warm embrace (not as much as Yifan’s, but it’s better than the cold, Zitao reckons), a black box for Zitao to store his thoughts in.

He tells Sehun what he needs to. Sehun asks what it’s like and Zitao answers; it’s like looking up at the stars to see that they’re not shining anymore, galaxies overcome by the darkness of space and damnit, Zitao can’t even think about ing metaphors without reminding himself of Yifan.

Sehun gets used to the dampness Zitao leaves on the shoulder of his shirts.

Sehun walks into the living room one night and finds Zitao asleep on the sofa, his back towards Sehun, baggy, worn fabric emblazoned with WOLF 88 showing as he snores softly. Sehun picks him up, carries him to bed. He tries to ignore the way his heart feels heavy in his chest when he looks down and identifies the name KRIS on the front of the shirt.

Yifan may have left behind many pieces of himself, but he took a whole lot of Zitao away with him to compensate, Sehun thinks.

He pulls the covers up to Zitao’s neck.

Speaks, softly.

“I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.”

(The night sky is pitch black. Sehun hasn’t seen any stars for a long time.

All he sees is the bright, yet lonely moon, always appearing to be so close, yet out of reach.

It’s just a thin crescent now, but he knows it won’t disappear. He knows if he waits long enough, he’ll see it full again.)